


A Leader Without a Team

by masterwords



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Headaches & Migraines, Hurt Aaron Hotchner, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:08:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27388453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterwords/pseuds/masterwords
Summary: Hotch has a migraine, but he's maybe almost kind of sort of ready to accept help.  That's growth, right?
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/David Rossi
Comments: 9
Kudos: 95





	A Leader Without a Team

_Dave, my office please. I need you._

Dave Rossi looked down at his phone, dabbing at his lips with his napkin. It was rare that Aaron texted him during work hours, especially when he was just down in the bullpen eating with the rest of the team at their desks. He regarded the text for another moment, glancing up at Aaron's office suspiciously, noting that the door was closed and the light was off – everyone had assumed he'd gone out for lunch. 

“Well, ladies and gentlemen, it's been fun...” Rossi announced, closing up his box of takeout carefully and standing up, arching his back in a blissful stretch. _Old bones_ , he thought with a wry smile, letting the takeout box sit now unattended on his desk. It was almost like leaving out bait, he knew it would disappear, but he had no issue with that. Reid would watch as either Morgan or Emily would snap it up and begin eating, a look of absolute disgust crossing his features as he launched into a diatribe about germs – really, Rossi would have loved to see it, but he knew it so well. He excused himself quietly and grabbed a pad of paper and a pen, as if he was going upstairs for a meeting, these were the little things you did to try and put up some kind of walls around other profilers – flimsy walls, but there was an air of mutual respect that came with those walls, an understanding that if they were thrown up, you just let it go, you didn't pry...at least not right away. It was a note to file away for later. So, Rossi threw up his flimsy wall and marched quickly up the stairs to Aaron Hotchner's dark office, a pit settling in his stomach as he anticipated what he would find behind that door. He rapped at the door quietly, but didn't wait for an answer before opening it, sliding inside and closing it behind him quickly. It was pitch black in the office, the blinds were drawn over every window, not even a sliver of light touched his eyes for a few moments until they adjusted. 

“Aaron?” he asked, his voice hardly above a whisper. He heard a soft groan from the direction of his friend's desk and he slipped quietly over, his eyes now adjusted enough that he could maneuver and see the soft golden halo atop Aaron's dark hair. The man was slumped over his desk, his face buried in his arms. Rossi approached him quietly, his hand coming to rest against Aaron's neck, feeling the warm, soft skin, his fingers caressing gently and he knew exactly what the problem was. 

“How long?” Dave asked, crouching down on his haunches beside his friend, leaning in close, his hand still stroking gently at the other man's neck and hair. 

“Hours,” croaked Aaron, his voice soft and hoarse. Rossi nodded solemnly. He thought back to this morning, watching Aaron get up hours before his alarm went off, the kiss goodbye as he left for work under the pretense of getting a head start on the caseload sitting on his desk before anyone else showed up. He must have felt it coming on then, tried to get a jump on his work before the migraine took hold. Hotch was the only person he knew who would try to outrun and outwork a migraine, like playing chicken with a locomotive. 

“Let me take you home,” Rossi whispered, his hand trailing up into Aaron's hair now, fingers sliding lightly up and down, back and forth, tracing invisible lines along his scalp gently. “You just need some sleep.”

“No,” Aaron sighed, melting into the touch. “I can't. Too much to do.” 

Rossi smiled, rolling his eyes affectionately. “How much of it are you getting done right now?”

“I need help,” Hotch whispered, raising his head slightly, just enough to look through the dark at his friend, his partner. “Please.” 

“Anything you need,” Rossi replied automatically. It didn't really matter what Aaron asked him to do, he'd do it in a heartbeat without a second thought. He watched as Aaron grabbed for the papers just to his left, a sizable stack of folders, and slid them toward him, his eyes pleading in the dark. He knew Rossi hated paperwork, and truth be told, most of this was really the team's responsibility anyway but he loved them all so much that he mercifully took it all on himself. Often he'd be here, in his office, well into the night taking the brunt of his team's paperwork so that they could sleep and rest up, because he needed them more than the unrelenting stacks of paper did. Rossi grabbed the stack of files and looped them under his arm, smiling. 

“I'll have these done in an hour, then we're leaving,” Rossi stated, quietly. Aaron nodded and rested his head on his arms again, losing himself in the pounding and throbbing in his head. 

“You can stay,” Aaron muttered from inside of his hiding place, squeezing his eyes shut against the jackhammer exploding behind them. Rossi nodded softly, making his way over to the small table and chairs in the far corner and turning on the small lamp, watching as the soft yellow light flooded the table. He set the papers down and considered his spot for a moment before silently exiting his partner's office and walking down toward the break room. He knew all eyes were on him, but if he didn't make eye contact with them, his wall was still in place. Still, he felt their eyes, he could feel the questions and concerns burning into him all the way to the small kitchen space where he grabbed an ice pack and a towel and made his way back to Aaron's office. As a split second decision, because he hated to hide from his friends and because it would spark conspiracy theories to get them through the rest of the dull afternoon, he made eye contact with the first person in his line of sight – Spencer, the safest one, the most clueless one when it came to reading human social cues, and smiled, shrugging ever so slightly in silent communication and went back up to Aaron's office. He'd let them chew on that one for a while. Sometimes he liked to play games with them. When he entered, Aaron didn't even stir, so he walked over and, taking the ice pack wrapped in a towel, he placed it against the nape of his partner's neck. He leaned over and gently placed a kiss on the back of his head and slid over to the table in the corner, dimly lit, to begin working his way through the stack of paperwork. As he worked, he silently regarded this relationship with Aaron, this thing that had started so many years ago when he came back to the BAU after Gideon's sudden departure. He'd known Aaron for years, and there had always been something there that neither of them quite understood, a closeness that they never shied away from but never grasped onto either, but in the wake of Haley's death and the ruination of many of his own marriages, they somehow found their way into each other's arms. People always say “oh, it just happened”, but so far as Rossi was concerned, that was ultimately true. It had happened long before they knew it had, long before they ever made any decisions, long before a “first date”. It just happened, and now here they were – the team knew but didn't _know_ , it was beautiful and private, they lived in their own world of old gangster movies and scotch, a world where Rossi spent more nights at Aaron's place than his own and took Jack to school to let his partner get a little extra sleep and even in the hard times, the hurt times, it was more peaceful than either man had felt in their entire lives. It had just happened, as naturally as anything, over the course of many years and many triumphs and many heartaches. 

Rossi was wrenched from his trance by a soft knocking at the office door and he hazarded a glance over at Aaron for just a moment, noting that he hadn't even stirred so he must have fallen asleep. Slowly he stood and walked toward the door, opening it just a crack and peering out into the face of Derek Morgan, his handsome features contorted into a look of worry. 

“Everything ok in there?” he asked, his voice deep and soft. Dave nodded and slipped out of the office, closing the door behind him so they could talk in the hallway and not disturb Aaron's sleep. 

“He's just a little under the weather,” Dave offered, a knowing look passing between them. Morgan knew all too well how Hotch could be, how private he was, and even though he loved his team to the ends of the earth, you had to be invited into his very small, very private circle where he could be vulnerable, and even then sometimes he'd keep it to himself. Morgan and Dave were in the circle of trust more often than anyone else, and Morgan had noticed that Dave almost seemed to live in the circle anymore – he was glad for that. He didn't feel like he had to try and force his way inside anymore, he trusted that Hotch had what he needed. Still, times like this, he had to make sure. He'd been sitting at his desk and the feeling that something was wrong was gnawing at him until he couldn't keep it inside anymore. 

“You need anything?” Morgan asked, and Rossi sighed – he knew Morgan wasn't going to be pushed aside so easily. He shook his head. 

“Just to finish this pile of paperwork so he can get out of here.”

Morgan smiled and nodded, holding out his hand in a childishly charming gimme gimme motion. “Give it here, we'll do it – it's probably ours anyway, amiright? C'mon man, we don't have a case right now anyway, let us help.”

Rossi regarded this opportunity for a moment silently, going over the outcomes in his head, wondering just how badly Aaron would chew him out once he was feeling better, but ultimately he came to the decision that this time, it was worth it. He could handle Aaron's anger later. 

“Thanks Derek,” Rossi said finally, agreeing to give the papers to the team. It was only 3pm, if they all took a small stack they'd still be out of there by 5 easy and he could get Hotch home and in bed. He slid into the office, grabbed most of the stack, and brought it back out. 

“All of it, Rossi, you take him home now,” Derek chided, and Rossi rolled his eyes. This team was infuriating sometimes. “Don't make me go in there myself.” 

After all of the papers had been handed off, Rossi watched as Derek pulled the team into the round table room and shut the door, providing him with the opening he needed to get Hotch out without being apprehended by well-meaning teammates. He packed up his own briefcase, and then Aaron's, slinging them both over his shoulder before waking his partner and slowly shuffling him out the door and to his car. He regarded Aaron's own car a few spaces down and knew it would lead to suspicion, but he couldn't care about that now, they'd cross that bridge later. 

The drive back to Aaron's apartment was silent, a little uncomfortable because Aaron had pieced together his own version of what had gone into them being able to leave but he couldn't get into that battle now. He lay back in his seat, the world swimming around him, his head pounding, and he couldn't decide whether it was worse with his eyes open or closed while they drove – the motion was not helping. Finally, mercifully, the car stopped and they made their way silently up to Aaron's apartment. Rossi watched as Aaron slipped his shoes and suit jacket off near the doorway and padded straight to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him a little pointedly, still able to produce some semblance of drama while feeling like garbage. In another time, Rossi might have been inclined to give in and fuel the drama, but not with Aaron, he just smiled softly and went about his own business. Jack would be home from school soon, so he set about making a snack for the kid who always came home ravenous after a full day. Just as soon as he'd set the small tray of cheese and crackers and fruit on the small dining room table, formerly set with two chairs but lately set with three, Jack came bursing in through the door and tossed his backpack aside. It took him a moment before he realized that Dave was standing there, home earlier than usual, and he grinned at the older man. 

“Hey Dave!” Jack called, immediately drawn to the table with the food set out for him. “Why're you home early?”

Dave glanced quickly at Aaron's bedroom door, and Jack followed his gaze and nodded. “Dad's sick? I thought so, he got up really early today...” 

“Just a headache,” Rossi corrected, seating himself now beside Jack at the table. “He's fine.” Jack nodded, he knew how this went. The headaches started after Hayley died, and Jack knew all about them. He'd been so scared at first, but now they were like second nature, and it was so much better now that Dave was around to help them out. Everything got better when Dave started staying with them. 

“He hasn't had one in a long time,” Jack muttered, his mouth full of cracker and cheese. Dave regarded that statement for a moment and smiled, he supposed Jack was right. Maybe he hadn't. 

“Dave?” came a soft voice from the other side of the apartment, and both Dave and Jack looked up to see Aaron standing in his doorway, silhouetted by the golden afternoon light, wearing nothing but a tshirt and his boxer shorts, his hair wet and unruly after a nice long shower. “Can you come in here please?”

“Of course,” Dave replied, standing and excusing himself prematurely from his second attempt at a meal of the day. This was getting to be a pattern. Aaron forced a smile at his son and Jack smiled back – he knew how this went. Dave would go in and he would do his homework in the quiet of the apartment. Jack watched as his father disappeared back inside of his dark bedroom and Dave followed, shutting the door behind them. 

“Dave,” Aaron began, sliding into his bed, melting into the sheets. Dave sat down on the bed beside him, knowing what was coming but he didn't feel any apprehension. He could see the exhaustion on Aaron's face and the pain behind his eyes, this wasn't going to be one for the ages. 

“Morgan asked if they could help,” Dave offered, and Aaron looked up at him with his eyes soft and tired. "I - "

“It's fine,” Aaron said finally, quietly. “I wanted to be mad but I couldn't. You're all better at being part of a team than I am, but I am trying.”

“You're the only one who can lead this team, though, we need you just as much as you need us.”

Aaron shook his head and beckoned for Dave to lay beside him, to which the other man obliged happily. Aaron pushed in close to him, resting his aching head against Dave's chest, listening to his heartbeat. Dave's warmth, his gentle kindness, his beautiful soft olive skin, that was all better than any medicine. 

“A team without a leader might be chaos, but a leader without a team is just _alone_ ,” Aaron whispered, his eyes drifting shut. “That's worse." He regarded his own statement in silence for a moment before yawning and muttering softly "Let's buy them lunch tomorrow to say thanks.” 

Dave just smiled and nodded in agreement, his hand finding its way up into Aaron's messy damp hair, rubbing softly until he felt the other man fall asleep. He'd have to get out of bed soon to make dinner for them, but for now, he was content just to lie here next to his partner, the best and easiest love he'd ever experienced, and just _be_ \- because that was all Aaron needed, just to not be alone.


End file.
